


the traces of life with you

by shadowtraveled (meteorfest)



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Immortality, M/M, convoluted percy is a god au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3872323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meteorfest/pseuds/shadowtraveled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes gods fell in love with mortals and, sometimes, gods fell in love with the same mortal, over and over again, through multiple lives. Perseus is one such god and there's one mortal that he just keeps falling in love with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the traces of life with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Allarica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allarica/gifts).



> So Allarica sent me a prompt over tumblr and it was *supposed* to be short fluff, but it's actually like the exact opposite of that. Don't let me AU anything, it will end up 10x longer than planned and 10x more painful.

The first time Perseus had fallen in love with the mortal, his name was Loukas and he was a young merchant in Poseidonia, a small town named for Perseus’ father. Loukas seemed to be blessed by Perseus’ cousin, Hermes, for he had a natural gift as a merchant, his charisma and excellent goods keeping him well-fed, well-clothed, and well-lived. His charm went beyond the market stall, into the bedroom, as one could tell by the string of lovers Loukas boasted. Like many immortals before him had with mortals, Perseus kept his eye on Loukas, found himself drawn to the human, and, eventually, went to him.

He took a mortal form, choosing the dark hair and bright eyes that Loukas seemed to favor in his lovers - whether male or female, they all had similar features. He came to Loukas and spoke with him, weaving a tale of being a traveler from another town. The young man had given him a sly smile, a spark of interest in his lapis-blue eyes as Loukas turned on the charm, flirting with Perseus and eventually offering to buy him wine after closing up shop. An amphora of dark wine was purchased and taken back to Loukas’ home and the two of them drank deeply of the wine before they moved to Loukas’ bed, where their bodies tangled together in a long night of passion.

They met several times, sharing several nights together. During the day, Loukas worked his shop, but in the evening, he came back and worked Perseus, who stayed with him for a time. Loukas offered him a place in his home, asked little of him in return - the occasional help at the market stall, an errand or two - and Perseus gladly accepted, wanting to spend as much time with the mortal as he could. He never complained about the menial tasks Loukas asked of him, tasks he would normally never have done as a god, as long as he could stay. Besides, it wasn’t as if Loukas knew who he really was; Perseus’ older brother, Triton, was far more well-known than he was.

Loukas got suspicious, though. He was keen-eyed and not just for lovers and customers. The mortal noticed that Perseus didn’t show the same weaknesses that he did - Perseus never seemed to tire, as Loukas did; he could drink more wine with less effect than Loukas; his body seemed too lean for the strength he carried. Eventually Loukas confronted him and Perseus told him the truth, that he was a god, a son of Poseidon, at that.

Loukas seemed to take it pretty well. “No wonder you’re so good in bed.”

Perseus laughed and kissed Loukas deeply. Loukas returned the kiss and drew his godly lover to the bed, where he took Perseus as his own, hands roaming over the young god’s body. Loukas worshipped Perseus in an intimate way that no mortal had been allowed to before. Afterwards, as they lay together, bodies intertwined, Loukas asked him to stay and Perseus promised that he would.

But a god, even one as minor as Perseus, couldn’t stay with a mortal forever. His father eventually called him back, displeased that Perseus had been ignoring his duties in favor playing with a mortal. Though Poseidon had his fair share of mortal lovers, his duty ultimately came first and he expected his youngest son to be the same.

Perseus had already spent a year with Loukas, the passing of the seasons marking the time, though it felt like such an incredibly short time to a god who’d already existed for centuries. It was long enough, though, for other mortals to wonder where their god had gone; Perseus had neglected his duties as a local deity long enough for both mortals and the higher ranking gods to notice and the other gods were not pleased with him. Perseus would have to return to his duties.

“You’re leaving?” Loukas asked, during the last night Perseus was with him. The mortal was breathless from the last round of love-making and beaded sweat glowed gold in the light of the lamps in the room. His hands rested at Perseus’ hips as the youth straddled him. “When?”

“In the morning,” Perseus replied. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay with Loukas. He loved the mortal. If he could do so, he would take Loukas with him, grant the young man immortality and keep him. Zeus had done it with Ganymede. Eros’ wife, Psyche, had been gifted immortality. Why couldn’t he do it with Loukas? The answer had been simple; Perseus was only a minor god and would not be allowed to keep Loukas. “I have to return home. But I’ll come back.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against Loukas’ in a slow kiss. “I promise.”

“I’ll be here,” Loukas promised in return, kissing Perseus back.

* * * * *

Loukas was killed before Perseus could return to him. The Lucani came from the south and conquered Poseidonia, taking the Greek settlement for their own. Loukas was one of the multitude of citizens killed, fighting against the invaders, before an alliance was made and an uneasy peace brought to the conquered town.

When Perseus found out about his lover’s death, Poseidonia was stormed by a week of rain that threatened the town before their patron god was able to end his son’s rage. Perseus left his father’s palace and took refuge in a city that had been submerged beneath the waters centuries ago. He refused to leave the sunken ruins for months, grieving for his lost love. Not even the threat of punishment for neglecting his duties again would draw him from his grief.

* * * * *

Perseus found him again millennia later. The world had long forgotten the gods of Hellas, except in legends passed on for generations. Their visages remained through statues and mosaics. Their names were remembered mainly through the works of Homer and Herodotus, among a handful of others. Scattered few uttered their names in prayer, whispered in secret, away from the ears of the Christians who would persecute them for pagan practices.

Gods and heroes were little more than tales when Perseus next approached his love. His name was Lucien now and he was the son of a wealthy textile merchant in France. Lucien Mercier had changed little from his previous life. He was still a charismatic young man, with a knack for getting exactly what he wanted - whether it was a sale for his father or the hearts of young men and women. He looked different, paler than Loukas had been because of the change in climate, but his eyes were the same jewel blue. His hair was lighter, sun-spun gold rather than Loukas’ honey gold, and it curled around his chin when it wasn’t tied back.

Perseus knew it was Loukas the moment he’d set eyes on him. Loukas, Lucien, what did his name matter when the soul was the same?

It wasn’t easy to approach him this time. Paris was a busy city, recovering from a revolution two years prior. Many citizens were simply trying to move on with their lives, but there were whispers in the small alleyways of more turmoil to come. Perseus paid them little attention. He took on the form of a mortal youth, as he had before, and began to mingle with the group that Lucien often spent time with. Lucien was calling his friends, fellow students from the local university, to gather for a movement. Perseus, in an attempt to be closer to the mortal man, came to the gatherings, listening to Lucien speak to those who came.

He had the same way with words that Loukas had; his strong voice struck with the hearts of those gathered. He had control over them, holding his audience in awe as he spoke of rising against those governing the city. Many in the audience left, but others stayed.

Perseus was one of them. He joined Lucien afterwards and, for weeks, stayed by him, helping him however he could, though he did not fully understand what was going on - mortal politics meant nothing to a god that had existed before mortal government had developed. As long as he could be close to Lucien, that was all he cared about.

Lucien told him how much Perseus’ support meant. The smiles he shared with the youth when they were the last two awake, going over plans, were everything to Perseus. And as the summer drew close, Lucien took Perseus to his bed, kissing him and worshipping the youth’s body as he had in the life he no longer remembered. He told Perseus that he loved him and wanted him there with him when the barricades went up. Perseus agreed.

Then Lamarque’s funeral procession began the revolution and Perseus realized what he’d never understood in all those plans and secret meetings:

Lucien was playing a _very_ dangerous game. Perseus didn’t need to have Apollo’s gift for prophecy to know that there was no chance his lover would win. Even as Lucien called for the barricades to be put up, Perseus begged him to stop, to run, to leave the rebellion. Lucien refused. Through the whole riot, Perseus tried again and again to get Lucien to escape. The mortal would not have it.

“You’ve stood by me this whole time, why would you leave me now?” Lucien demanded. There was an anger in the mortal’s voice that Perseus had never heard before, even when he shouted for justice. Lucien was angry that the plan was failing and, more, that Perseus wanted him to abandon the plan when he planned to stand his ground. “You helped bring this rebellion to life and you want us to run away like cowards _now_? Why?”

For Perseus, the answer was simple: “Because I can’t lose you again!”

A storm of footfall alerted the two of them to the arrival of the police to the loft where they’d taken refuge. They were coming up the stairs and Perseus knew he wouldn’t have time to get Lucien out. He pulled the mortal close, capturing Lucien’s lips in a desperate kiss. Lucien’s arms wrapped around him as the door slammed open and the next thing Perseus knew was the crack of gunfire.

* * * * *

Lucien died in Perseus’ arms, his mortal blood soaking their clothes, staining Perseus’ skin. Those beautiful blue eyes would never open again. Perseus held Lucien to him, crying quietly in the awful silence that fell when the last of the cannons stopped firing. The bullets had ravaged Lucien’s body, but hadn’t so much as nicked Perseus’ immortal form. His only wound was the heart that was broken a second time, with the second loss of his beloved.

No one came for them. Perseus took Lucien’s body away from the city and gave him ancient rites to honor him.

* * * * *

Perseus hadn’t wanted to fall in love with Luke Castellan.

He didn’t want to be hurt again. Falling in love with the same mortal lifetime after lifetime would only cause him more pain and the god had been through enough pain. Perseus had loved many mortals over the millennia, but Loukas had been special enough to draw his attention a second time as Lucien. A third time would only cause more pain.

Still, Perseus took the form of a mortal youth once again, following Luke. Just to keep an eye on him. Luke had been born a demigod this time, the son of Hermes - the same god that Loukas had been seemingly blessed by in his first life. Perseus had never had much interest in demigods, not even the one that shared his name, but when he found out that his lover had been reborn as a demigod, he sought out Chiron’s camp.

Luke was already there when Perseus - having taken the name and guise of Percy Jackson - arrived to Camp Half-Blood. Percy was determined not to fall in love this time. He’d made sure to make his mortal guise significantly younger than Luke, to thwart any interest the son of Hermes might take in him. He meant only to watch Luke.

And then Luke had stolen him toiletries and, honestly, it _shouldn’t_ have felt like a sweet gesture - there was nothing sweet about mortal toiletries - but it had felt like it. Luke smiled at Percy and, despite the garish scar on the mortal’s face, Perseus could have sworn it was Loukas smiling at him again across time. It had made his heart race and his cheeks redden and he knew then that no matter how much he might try, he would be in love again.

Unfortunately for this lifetime, it would again be a love that ended in pain. Luke had stepped up his rebellious game this life around, bringing revolution from French government up to Olympus itself. The betrayal Percy felt when Luke revealed his alliance with Kronos and set the pit scorpion against him broken his heart. He had to stop Luke this time.

Joining the demigods at Camp Half-Blood, Perseus continued his charade as Percy Jackson for years. With his friends, Grover Underwood, Annabeth Chase, Nico di Angelo, and countless others, Percy led Camp Half-Blood against Titan forces. He comforted Annabeth when she told him about Luke’s betrayal, sharing her pain as she loved Luke as he had loved Loukas and Lucien before Luke. He fell in love with Calypso, the nymph that had once loved Odysseus, and left her, his biggest what-if, behind to continue the fight against Luke and the Titans. Helplessly, he’d watched Kronos take Luke’s body for his own, only the invincibility granted by the Styx saving the mortal’s body from immediately burning away.

Perseus chose to fight, for his friends at Camp Half-Blood, for the gods on Olympus that barely remembered his true name and who he really was. Even his own father had fallen for the mortal guise of Percy Jackson. He chose to fight to save Luke and the world that was now in danger because of the choices Luke had made through this life.

Percy lived through more in a few short years than Perseus had in millennia. Acting as a mortal for as long as he had, he’d become closer to mortals than he ever had, made friends with them, lost some of those friends, and it taught him much about love, especially the love he had for Loukas through the centuries. In the end, though, it meant little when Luke sacrificed himself on Olympus, killing himself to destroy Kronos. As he was dying, Luke asked Annabeth if she loved him.

He never asked Percy.

* * * * *

Perseus continued on as Percy for a couple more years after Luke’s death. He had a promise to keep and work to do to help the demigods recover. When Gaea began stirring and the Romans were revealed to still be around, Percy helped restore balance. As minor a god as he was, the Romans had completely overlooked him when they took over the Greeks and Perseus hadn’t cared. Joined by new friends and old ones, Percy helped put Gaea back to rest - though he’d never live down the fact that a _nosebleed_ had woken Gaea.

He had to reveal the truth about him when the blood from his nose had been gold, not red. Annabeth had been upset with him for never telling her and it put a huge damper in the relationship that had been building between them, eventually leading to a break up. Nico confessed to liking Percy and the fact that Percy was actually a minor god didn’t seem to change that much.

If anyone had anything to say about Perseus taking Nico as a lover later, it was never said aloud. He stayed with Nico for a few years before the son of Hades moved on to a mortal lover and Perseus returned to the sea.

* * * * *

It didn’t take long for Luke to be reborn in comparison to the last two times. Over the lifetimes, there had been some significant gaps between Loukas’ lives; over a thousand years between his first and second, a little over two hundred between his second and third. Lucas Pecoraro was born in Salerno, Italy only a couple of years after Luke Castellan died. It seemed history and fate were repeating, with Lucas born so close to where the ruins of Poseidonia lay - thousands of years after his death, Loukas was as close to home as he could get.

Lucas was nineteen years old when Perseus found him. The young man seemed to be an amalgamation of all of his previous lives - he worked at a shop in the city, paralleling his life as Loukas; he was a student at the University of Salerno with an interest in politics, echoing Lucien; and, like Luke, he carried a heavy weight on his shoulders - sadness and anger that he didn’t understand.

At first, Perseus wasn’t willing to even talk to Lucas. He should have let Loukas go a long time ago, gotten over the heartbreak of losing his lover in the Lucanian take-over of Poseidonia thousands of years ago. He should never have gotten involved with Lucien Mercier when his lover had been reborn. If he’d never gotten near Luke Castellan, perhaps the Great Prophecy would have happened differently. If he stayed away from Lucas Pecoraro, maybe they could both move on.

Although, it didn’t hurt to just keep an eye on him, right? As long as he didn’t get involved, as long as he didn’t make his presence known. Most people didn’t believe in the ancient gods anymore and Perseus himself had been all but forgotten until twenty years ago, when he’d revealed himself to be a minor god to the demigods at Camp Half-Blood. Lucas wouldn’t know he was there unless Perseus decided to let him know.

He was always distant when he checked in on Lucas - a tourist subtly peeking out behind a brochure; a student passing by Lucas in the hallway; another customer in the restaurant where Lucas was having a quick lunch. It was never often, just once in a while. Perseus would stop by Salerno and just make sure Lucas was still alive. He could get by with that knowledge.

At least, he could until he started hearing the prayers.

No one had prayed to Perseus in hundreds of years. He’d always been more of a local deity, centered around Hyele, a city not far from Poseidonia in ancient times. The prayers to him from both Poseidonia and Hyele had long ago ceased when the Romans had taken over and his worship had slowly begun to cease. By the time Christianity had come along, Perseus, son of Poseidon and minor tidal god, was forgotten - his name more well-known by the hero who shared it. Even now that demigods had been reminded of who he was, and after his friend, Jason Grace, followed through with his promise to dedicate temples to all the minor gods, including Perseus himself, none truly prayed to him.

So when he heard his name called in prayer, for the first time since the Romans had choked out his worship, Perseus found himself in shock. He’d long since gotten used to silence and generalized prayers - none addressing him, but more open prayers to whichever god chose to listen. Hearing a prayer to him, with his name pronounced in a low, warm voice, brought Perseus to a full stop.

_“If you hear this prayer, Perseus, know that I haven’t forgotten.”_

That simple prayer could have meant anything. Someone could be praying to him from Camp Half-Blood, remembering that he was a god in his own right and offering him prayer at the sacrificial fire before dinner. It could be someone looking deeply into the mythology left behind by the ancient Greeks, finding his name on some obscure page of Hermes’ internet and learning about him. Some historian could have found evidence of his worship at the ruins of Paestum and gotten it in their head to try to replicate the prayers in the ancient depictions.

Or it could be Loukas, reaching out to him through the millennia through his reborn self. Perseus didn’t want to get his hopes up too much; he was still hurt that Luke hadn’t loved him, as his previous selves had. He’d taken Luke’s disinterest - his outright hate of the gods - as a sign that Loukas had moved on. Even though Luke had never known who Percy Jackson really was, it had seemed as though the son of Hermes had known on a subconscious level that he was more than he let on.

Or maybe he _had_ known Percy was really a god. Maybe that was why Luke had hated Percy so much.

Whatever the case was, Perseus didn’t leave his father’s palace when the prayer came to him. It wasn’t an urgent message, it didn’t call for him to tend to his duties. He wasn’t being asked to assure good fishing, there was no offering waiting to appease him, nothing to give him any sign that he should _do_ something. Putting the simple prayer out of his mind, Perseus went about his usual duties around his father’s palace. Ever since Oceanus had nearly destroyed the palace in the war against the Titans, there had been more work around the palace to do. It would take a long time for it to return to its original splendor and, even now, nearly twenty years later, there was still work to be done and Perseus had to do his fair share.

He tended the tides, working with Charybdis to make sure they were on time and steady. Between him and Tyson, the eight hippocampi that pulled their father’s chariot were well-fed and strong, their manes clean and flowing freely in the slow, deep current of the ocean. Sometimes, Poseidon would send Perseus as an ambassador to other gods, occasionally to Camp Half-Blood, and on the rare occasion, to Olympus.

Perseus’ duties kept him fairly well occupied and he was able to keep from dwelling on the errant prayer. For a while, at least; it wasn’t long before another prayer came through to him, once again calling _him_ specifically. His name was called. He was invoked. No one else. It was a prayer only to him. This time, Perseus took a moment, sucked in a slow, deep breath, and let himself envision the one calling out to him.

It was Lucas, as he’d suspected. The young mortal sat on the shore, near the Piazza della Libertà. He wasn’t yet near the water, keeping a good ten or so feet from where the waves reached at their best. Lucas seemed tense near the water, despite the relaxing atmosphere and calming ambience of the waves curling over the sand. Perseus wondered, briefly, if it was some subconscious memory of the son of Poseidon who Luke Castellan had hated so much that kept Lucas from the water’s touch.

He watched Lucas for several moments, waiting for the mortal to do something - pray again, go to the water, leave; he didn’t know what he expected Lucas to do. The human sat there on the shore, blue eyes staring intently at the waves. His hand moved and it was then that Perseus noticed a sketchbook on Lucas’ lap, the mortal’s legs drawn up to act as an easel while Lucas’ pencil skimmed over the page.

Curiosity got the better of Perseus and he refocused his vision on Lucas’ sketchbook. Of the myriad of possibilities, he honestly shouldn’t have been at all surprised to see that Lucas was drawing him. It was the cliché of all clichés, for a young man to sketch out the visage of a lover he had in a past life, but there Perseus was, on the page of the sketchbook - as he’d appeared to Loukas, to Lucien, and to Luke; three figures of himself, from three different centuries, drawn from the memory of three different lives.

The prayer he’d heard the other day came back to him: _“Know that I haven’t forgotten.”_

Perseus pulled himself away from the vision and shook his head. Lucas knew him. In this life, Lucas had somehow retained his memories of Perseus through his lifetimes. It threw Perseus off, his will to finally let go of the mortal after centuries crumbling. If Lucas remembered him, called out to him, even prayed to him, shouldn’t he answer those prayers?

He wasn’t sure what to do. He could ignore the prayers and let Lucas forget about him in time, risking hurting the mortal and making him hate the gods in a second lifetime. He could go to Lucas and possibly rekindle their centuries old affair, eventually letting himself be hurt again when Lucas inevitably died. There were so many paths he could take, all of them ending in eventual heartbreak for one of them. No matter what he did, one of them was going to be hurt.

That was the downside of being immortal and falling in love with someone who wasn’t; there were no happily ever afters. The mortal moved on and eventually died, while the immortal was left to mourn. In cases, like Perseus’ own, the immortal never forgot their lover and had to spend lifetimes, watching their lover move on, sometimes reborn, usually falling in love with someone else entirely. It hurt and there were some gods who never let themselves even interact with mortals in order to avoid such grief. There were others, like Perseus, who fell in love over and over again with the same soul; Apollo was one such god, repeating the same process as his young cousin, falling in love with Hyakinthos when the boy was reborn twice and grieving when the love he had could not flourish.

Perseus had already tasted the bitterness of love lost three times. Loukas had been killed while he’d been away. Lucien had died in his arms, body riddled with bullet wounds. Luke had not loved him at all and had died never knowing that Perseus had loved him.

And yet, he remembered the sweetness of the love he’d had. He remembered the warm days in Poseidonia and bringing watered-down wine to quench Loukas’ thirst as he worked at his shop, and the cool nights he spent with Loukas. His immortal memory could recall the quiet evenings spent with Lucien, the mortal young man talking in quiet, but excited tones as the candlelight glowed on his skin. He remembered the feeling of his lover’s lips on his, the cinnamon scent that seemed to cling to the mortal, no matter if it was Loukas, saturated with the scent from a day next to the spice stall in the market, or Lucien, who’d always smelled of cinnamon without explanation.

The good memories he had from the times he’d spent with Loukas outweighed the painful memories of his death. The short time he’d been with Lucien had made them both happy before the mortal youth had been taken away from him. The happiness he shared with his lover was worth all the pain of loss, Perseus decided. If there was even a chance at having that happiness again, why should he force himself away from it?

So he would go to Lucas. It was already clear to him that the mortal was waiting for him; the prayers, the sketches, the way Lucas watched the sea, as if waiting for Perseus to step out of it in all his glory. Perseus didn’t exactly feel like making that kind of spectacle, especially since there were people on the beach with Lucas at the moment. He would wait, watching for the right time to appear.

He just wasn’t sure when the ‘right time’ was, if such a time existed. He didn’t want to mess this up. Somehow, it felt like this was his last chance to be with the mortal he’d loved over the centuries. Loukas had already lived three lives before this - when a soul reincarnated like this, it generally meant that they were trying for the Isles of the Blest; though Perseus didn’t know how Loukas had been judged in death before, a fourth life like this suggested that this was his third time being reborn, possibly in the attempt to gain Elysium.

If this was his last chance to be with Loukas, Perseus wanted it and he wanted it to be perfect. One lifetime left to spend with the mortal he’d loved for three lifetimes before, he wanted to make it count.

He could have done anything. He could have made it so Lucas would run into him at the store, a ‘chance’ encounter while the young man was shopping. It might have been interesting to pose as a barista in the coffee shop that Lucas frequented. There were so many possibilities, but the one he chose was perhaps the most subtle, but he knew that Lucas would notice.

He waited two days after seeing Lucas on the shore. Stepping out of the ocean, he walked the distance from the shore to the university campus. It was morning, but the city was already awake, people moving from place to place. In all the time that Perseus had spent in the world, he had seen how little people had actually changed; tasks that they undertook three thousand years ago were hardly any different from the tasks undertaken today. The technologies had changed, making life easier for mortals, but they were still farming, cloth was still made, goods sold and purchased. Life itself did not change, only the ways that people went about life.

Perseus stopped a couple of times on his way to the campus, purchasing coffee and a warm pastry for himself. He’d come to enjoy mortal food a lot, spending several years as a mortal, taking the form of Percy Jackson and the identity as Sally Jackson’s son - he did kind of feel bad about lying and manipulating the woman’s memories to make her think she had a son, but she had forgiven him and still loved him like a son, though she and Paul Blofis now had a teenage daughter of their own. Sally still checked in on him from time to time, still smiled at him, called him Percy, and sent him sacrifices of her blue chocolate chip cookies and it made Perseus pretty happy.

Chewing on the pastry as he walked, Perseus rehearsed in his mind what he was going to do, what he would say to Lucas when the two of them finally came face to face. Lucas had continued to pray to him after the visit to the shore. The prayers weren’t really prayers, it was more like Lucas spoke to Perseus through his prayers like little text messages - _“I’m here,”_ said one prayer; _“Do you remember?”_ asked another.

_“Are you listening?”_

_“Am I just making all of this up?”_

_“Are you even real?”_

That last prayer had been what had made Perseus take action that morning. Lucas was questioning and it was a sign that Perseus had better go to him before the mortal gave up on him. He had to face the mortal and answer those prayers. Yes, he remembered; he was listening; Lucas wasn’t making any of it up and Perseus was very much real.

Perseus arrived to the university well before the morning rush of students. The god wandered through the campus, visible to any mortal who might come across him, though only few would sense that he was different from them; most mortals wouldn’t know an ancient god from anyone else, but those who could see through the Mist would see there was _something_ different about him. He found his way to the fountain at the Piazza del Sapere on the campus and took a seat on one of the benches to finish the coffee that had become lukewarm during the walk to the campus. Perseus knew, from the times that he’d dropped by to peek in on Lucas’ life that the young man walked by the fountain every day before his first class. He would make himself known to Lucas when he came this way today.

He still didn’t know what he was going to say to Lucas. He wasn’t sure how much the mortal remembered of his past lives, how much he knew about the time they’d spent together, how much Loukas and Lucien had loved Perseus and how much Luke hadn’t. How much did Lucas’ memories conflict, if he remembered so much? Perseus couldn’t know until he met Lucas face to face.

Truth be told, Perseus was nervous about this. What if it was already too late? What if that final prayer - _Are you even real?_ \- had been the breaking point for Lucas? Had the mortal already given up on him? He hadn’t heard a prayer from Lucas since that one and maybe it meant that Lucas was done praying to a god that didn’t answer him.

Perseus stood from the bench and crossed the courtyard to the fountain, pacing across the length of it anxiously. The eight spouts of the fountain sent jets of water into the air and Perseus watched the water fall back into the pool of the fountain. It was calming to watch; water always calmed him down, be it sea water or fountain water - water was water and it all had the same effect on him. He took a deep breath, letting the soothing sound of the fountain wash over him, and closed his eyes, concentrating on Lucas. In his divine sight, he could see the young man leaving the apartment he shared with a couple of roommates, heading for the campus, a couple of blocks away.

Perseus reached out to him. _“I’ve heard your prayers. I remember.”_

Through his vision, he saw Lucas stop in his tracks. The young mortal’s eyes, as blue as the sea, widened in surprise and Perseus could almost hear Lucas’ heart thumping in his chest. The surprise soon turned into confusion - Lucas wasn’t sure where Perseus’ voice was coming from and, as he looked around, it was clear that the god wasn’t near him.

Perseus laughed, unable to help himself. This was the mortal he loved. _“The Piazza del Sapere. I’ll be waiting.”_

He saw Lucas move again, faster now that he knew Perseus was waiting for him. Bringing his vision back to normal, the god stood by the fountain with a small smile over his lips. More students were beginning to come onto the campus as the morning classes approached and most of them paid no mind to him. Why should they? To them, he probably seemed like just another student, waiting to meeting someone before class, likely.

Well, it wasn’t that far from the truth. Perseus slipped his hands into the pockets of the jeans he wore, taking a deep, calming breath. This was it. Lucas was on his way. This life was the last they’d have together, he was sure. They had to make this one count. In the face of meeting the mortal he’d loved three times before, Perseus found himself all nerves. No mortal had meant as much to him as Loukas had, that he would return to him again and again.

After waiting a few minutes, Perseus turned his head to look around the piazza, green eyes scanning over the area, looking at each of the students that were trickling through the piazza on their way to class. His gaze fell on Lucas as the young man ran onto the scene, coming to a halt on the other side of the square. The mortal looked around briefly, mirroring Perseus’ previous action, before turning his attention to the fountain and the god that stood before it.

“Perseus.”

Though still distant from him, Perseus could hear his name fall from Lucas’ lips, disbelief coloring the tone of the young man’s voice. A smile graced Perseus’ lips and he raised one hand in a wave. Lucas took it as a signal for him to move forward and he did, running across the piazza, nearly knocking over a couple of his fellow students in his hurry to get to the god he could hardly believe was actually there.

The moment he was close enough, Lucas caught Perseus around the waist and, without hesitating, lifted the god off his feet, swinging him around with a cry of delight. Perseus’ smile widened and he gave a laugh, heart racing in his chest. This was Loukas, acting through his latest incarnation. He could sense it. Lucas set him down a moment later and pulled him in, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. Perseus’ arms were around the mortal immediately and he returned the kiss with fervor.

That kiss was one that had waited lifetimes to happen and Perseus was going to make the wait worth every second. It ended only when Lucas broke it to breathe and the mortal’s hands came up to cup Perseus’ face.

“You’re real. You heard me.” There was still an undertone of disbelief in Lucas’ voice, but it was overwhelmed by the joy that echoed in his voice. “You came back.”

Perseus nodded. “Of course I did,” he said, bringing his hands up to cover Lucas’ on his cheeks. Thousands of years ago, he’d told Loukas that he would come back. He’d finally done it. “I promised I would.”

“I’ve been waiting,” Lucas told him. His thumb stroked over Perseus’ cheek, catching a tear that the god hadn’t even realized he’d shed. “I’ve been here. I called out to you. Now you’re here.”

“I’m here.”

Lucas caught Perseus’ lips in a second kiss and Perseus realized that it wasn’t just Loukas acting through a new life; Lucas himself had fallen in love with the god he remembered through memories of past lifetimes. It was just a spark of love, kindled by scattered memories, but the potential was there for that love to be a fire that burned bright. Lucas did not know Perseus as the god had changed over the centuries. Perseus did not know Lucas, as the mortal was more than just the soul of his lover reborn. They had a chance now to learn each other and fall in love with each other for who they were now, not who they were before.

And Perseus wasn’t letting that chance go.

He broke the kiss and smiled at Lucas. “There’s a lot we need to catch up on,” he told the mortal. “Will you stay with me?”

“If you’ll stay with me,” Lucas promised.

“As long as you want me to stay.”

They could be together again. Perseus had loved Loukas for centuries and would continue to love him - but he would also love Lucas, for who the mortal was in this lifetime. They had time. And maybe, if things turned out well, Perseus could call in a favor. He’d helped save the world twice and it wasn’t that much to ask for his love to be able to stay with him, if Lucas wanted to stay.

But he was thinking too far into the future. For now, it was as he’d told Lucas. There was a lot for them to catch up on. Love would grow between them, as it had before. He had yet to know how much Lucas remembered of his past lives, how much he remembered of the love they’d shared before. Above all, he had yet to know what would happen between them in this lifetime. That would come, one day at a time.

The first time Perseus had fallen in love with the mortal, his name was Loukas and he’d had the mortal’s love for a year - too short a time for a god in love. Loukas had been taken away from him and, when Perseus found him next, as Lucien Mercier, they’d had only a few short months before the very rebellion that Lucien helped plan took the young man away from Perseus a second time. Luke Castellan, angry at the gods, had never loved Perseus and it had hurt Perseus more than when he’d lost Loukas and Lucien.

This time, Perseus was already falling in love with Lucas Pecoraro and knew that Lucas was already falling in love with him. As Lucas took Perseus by the hand, turning his back on the university in favor of getting to know the god he was falling in love with, Perseus found himself looking forward to this time loving Lucas.

He wasn’t going to waste this chance and he knew Lucas wouldn’t either.

 


End file.
